


Du Bist Mein Schild

by LMichaela



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Best Friends, Best Friends Turned Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Post-Recall, Rein is NOT Ana's baby daddy I'll let you know that right now, Reunion, Reunions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Ana Amari/Reinhardt Wilhelm, Slow Burn Anahardt, Sweet, The name I found to use for him comes from the Anishinaabe people, but the baby daddy is First Nations, like directly after the Recall cinematic almost, reunite, turns out i'm making this a
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:25:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMichaela/pseuds/LMichaela
Summary: Two old warriors of different kinds. He thought she died long ago. What a surprise when Overwatch is Recalled and a portrait starts talking to him.





	1. A Knight's Return

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So this is my first time ever really writing fic. Usually I just write with my own characters that I've made, so I hope I did everyone justice here. 
> 
> Any/all reviews would be appreciated! Especially constructive criticism. Thank you for reading :)  
> And a special thanks to anolewithanotebook on tumblr for being my beta reader!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For translations, you can hover over the text to see them. Or, if you're on a mobile device, I've also provided translations in the bottom AN. The story's title's translation is "You Are My Shield."

Reinhardt had never been so happy to receive any kind of call, not even back when he was in the German Army or when Jack had called on him to help the founding of Overwatch itself. An old warrior he was, lost in vigilantism to keep the fire in his belly going strong. _Retirement_ they’d told him. Take _ease_ in the rest of his days! As if the knight could possibly be satisfied sitting on a rocking chair, sipping a cup of tea while the news holo ran reports of gangs, terrorist sects, and worse still. _“You’ve served more than enough years.”_ **Wrong.** As long as there were years left to him, he had _not_ served enough. But legality meant that he could not be a part of the group he’d helped build and lead. And then the news holo had a different report for Overwatch. 

“ _International bullies. Glorified terrorists. **Corrupt.**_ ” Reinhardt’s heart broke again and again at these words. Nein… They were a force of _good_. He’d made sure of that, serving as the group’s moral compass for so long. But, of course, he wasn’t _in_ Overwatch anymore. “ _Served more than enough years._ ” Clearly not, for as certain as Reinhardt was given his “retirement,” the base, the organization itself was in flames, in a ball of fire, with two more of his friends dead in the explosion. 

The call that now gave him such joy was from the genetically engineered gorilla, Winston, another close friend Winston. Overwatch needed to come together once more. Well, what was left of it, in any case. And that included Reinhardt. 

“Brigitte,” he called to his apprentice. She was working on a piece of his armor, a talent she’d picked up from her father, and a talent that kept him going. He only got one set of Crusader armor, of course, now that his title was basically _vigilante_. “I do believe that was the last mission we will run together for quite some time.”

Brigitte laughed, not looking up from the metal on the makeshift workbench. “Oh, yeah? Finally getting tired of lugging all this stuff around?” she joked. She doubted her mentor would ever give up the “good fight.” At least, not unless he fell in battle. That sort of mentality of his did worry her, but she’d seen him fight more than enough times to know that he knew exactly what he was doing. 

“No, Brigitte.” He pulled up the message on his holo for her to see, but she was still focused on her work. “Come and look.”

She turned now, approaching so she could see the video of Winston better. “Oh, shit.”

“ _Achte auf deine Sprache,_ ” he reminded her with a sigh, not for the first time today, “ _ **bitte.**_ 1 A knight does not use such foul language.”

Bri chuckled at his admonishment, as she usually did. She could probably switch to some language he wasn’t as strong in, like her native Swedish, if she wanted to get away with it, but if this really was their last mission together, she was loathe to miss a chance for a little lesson, no matter how many times she had heard it before. “I guess that means _pappa_ 2 will need someone looking after the little ones, huh?”

Reinhardt nodded. “A little unfair to give up all this for taking care of siblings, but yes.”

“Nah, it’s alright. Could use a small break. So long as you promise that this is a break and not a ‘termination of squireship.’”

A warm smile crinkled his face. “Of course.”

* * *

Being inside the Rock again was… definitely strange. He never thought he would come back here, after all. The metallic halls felt strange and unfamiliar. Lena, of course, had been the first to respond to the call and arrive and had been the first to greet him. It was good to see the zippy girl had not changed in the years since his forced retirement and the Petras Act. They talked for awhile, and Lena was more than happy to tell him all about her girlfriend of the past few years, Emily. They apparently had gotten an apartment together in King’s Row, which led down another reminiscing discussion of the Null Sector attack in that neighborhood. 

“Oh _man_! That was my first mission! God, it was so scary in the airlift. I kept worrying about what would happen if the accelerator glitched or somethin’ at just the wrong moment,” Lena remembered aloud.

An earthy chuckle left Reinhardt. “Yes, I remember all the questions,” he teased. “And I see that you _still_ have not managed to tie your shoelaces.”  
This time, she didn’t even look down at her feet. Just gave Rein a stern look that said “ _Really, man?_ ” He shrugged. “Was worth a shot. Have you told Emily about that mission?”

Lena lit up again at the mention of her beloved. “Oh _yeah_ , she’s heard _all_ about it; _tuh-rust_ me. ‘Yes, Lele, I _know_ that’s where you stuck a bomb on the Detonator and saved the payload.’” She shook her head.

“Is someone talking about the Null Sector bomb?” came a familiar, heavily accented voice. A small-but-broad man walked into the room, looking proud as you please. “You all thought it wouldn’t get going on the path, _if_ I remember right.” They soon became lost in more tales of missions long past until evening when Lena noticed the time and said she had to face-call Emily, and Torbörn wanted to check in on the wife and kids.

Reinhardt, with no one to check in on, decided to stroll the halls. They couldn’t stay here long. Soon, someone would notice that old Overwatch members were mobilizing again, all converging at a base of operations. One could only use the “reunion for old time’s sake” excuse for so long. Soon they would all be fugitives of the law, fighting for good even if the world didn’t want it. 

He found himself standing in front of six portraits. There was Jack, shining that bright smile of his, his visor over one eye and standing proud. Next to his portrait was Gabriel. He’d refused to take off his beanie, saying it was lucky and to take it off meant to bring misfortune on all of Overwatch. Reinhardt was fairly certain he just didn’t want anyone to mess with his hair, but to each his own. Torbjörn’s portrait showed off the claw, of course. It was one of Torb’s proudest features. He also had that familiar scowl, wanting people to think he was tough on seeing his portrait and be totally blindsided once they met him. Liao’s was simple. They didn’t want much to stand out, preferring for the original article (i.e. themself) to say more than a painting. 

Reinhardt wished he still had his hair for his portrait. The flowing, golden river of joy was his pride of that Crusader poster. Instead, he looked much the same, but with less wrinkles. That deep scar was still over his left eye. When anyone asked, he made up a different, incredulous story every time. Fareeha had caught on early, calling him a liar and telling him that lying was wrong. Ana’s voice echoed in his head, “ _Oohoo, she told you, Reinhardt._ ”

That brought his eyes to her portrait. The Eye of Horus tattoo always stood out first to him. “For protection,” she’d said when he asked about it on their first mission during the Crisis. “Don’t worry; it’ll keep you safe, too.” And she’d winked.  
She wore the organization’s signature blue color well. Her arms were crossed in a confident stance that said “Just try to come at me.” He touched the canvas, not caring about the oils in his fingers. It was the closest he could get to touching his best friend again. After Amélie - no, _Widowmaker_ \- shot her in the attempt to _rescue_ Gerard’s wife, there was no sign of her. She was presumed captured by Talon. She never resurfaced like Amélie did as Widowmaker. Presumed dead.

“We are coming back together, Ana,” he murmured softly to her, gazing in her rich, brown eyes. “We will do good. Like we used to. I will not leave and let it fall into disarray again.” 

He heard footsteps behind him but did not look away. He assumed it was Lena, given that Torbjörn and Winston both had pretty distinctive footfalls. Surprise hit him like an earthquake, low and rumbling before it felt as if everything was falling down around him, as he heard her familiar voice, “I do believe the artist was very specific about _not_ touching the surface?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Watch your language, **please**.   
>  2: Dad


	2. A Knight's Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know a good bit of German, so the German translations in the first chapter were not a problem. I know nothing of Arabic. Arabic translations are run through Google Translate, and I'm using the Roman lettering offered. Arabic is read right to left, so I did not know if it was appropriate to do something such as: The salesman said, "مرحبا. كيف حالك؟"  
> Considering the switch of reading. (If GT had it wrong, that's supposed to say "Hello. How are you?")  
> If you are an Arabic speaker, please feel free to give me feedback on that. I kind of need it lol. You can leave it in a comment or send me an ask on tumblr. My URL is LMichaela-AO3.  
> As before, you can hover for translations or see the bottom AN.

His knees, the knees that had helped carry him in tons of metal, nearly buckled under him. It was her. It _had_ to be her. If it were merely his imagination - hallucinations weren’t unfamiliar to the knight - she would look as she did in the portrait, like the last time he had seen her before going on the rescue mission. Instead, there were lines on her face, and her hair had turned white, braided and resting over her shoulder. There was a patch over her right eye, and The Eye of Horus still tattooed on her left just like it always had been. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but it felt as if all that was in his lungs was dry, dusty air, leaving only an arid throat for him to choke on. A soft laugh left his best friend as she approached. “A bit surprising, hm?”

“ _‘Surprising?’_ ” he wheezed. “Ana, I thought you were _dead_.” How was she laughing? 

“Yes, well, best that it is a friend for the first time. I have a feeling you will experience this surprise a few times over in the coming weeks,” she replied. Then her arms were around him, and he couldn’t help but return the hug. “It is _good_ to see you again, Rein,” she whispered. Now his tears came, and his hold on her tightened. She was _alive_. He’d mourned her, but there was no need. She had been safe all these years, one of the few members of the original strike team he was called to those decades ago. 

She didn’t admonish the tears, just ran her hand over his back patiently, her forehead rested against his broad chest. When he finally calmed, he slowly pulled away to get a better look at her.  
“You’ve gotten old, Lieutenant Wilhelm,” she chuckled, that familiar smile on her face.

“Ha! You are one to talk, Captain. Though there seems to be less of you than I remember.” His hand cupped her jawline, thumb running along the eyepatch’s band that followed under her ear.

“Yes, a parting gift from Amélie,” she sighed. “We sort of match now, though.” She tapped his cheekbone where his old scar rested. “Come, let’s get something to drink in the kitchen. Winston better have kept some tea here, or I will have to scold him.”

He followed her to the Watchpoint’s kitchen and sat at a counter while he watched her turn a kettle on and prepare a couple of mugs and teabags.  
“Well?” she prompted. “I am certain you have some questions. Let me have them.”

He was silent for a moment. Of course he had questions. Far too many swam in his head, all wanting to be asked at the same time and rendering him unable to speak. Finally, the simplest and most obvious came to mind. “Why… did you fake your death?”

A slow sigh escaped the sniper. “I did not so much fake my death as… let everyone believe the worst,” she answered. “The team I was with evaced, and I was left behind. Amélie shot me through my scope.” She tapped the band of her eyepatch. “I was hospitalized for a long time. Gave me a while to think about… everything. All the people who have died because I put my finger on a trigger.”

“But they were the _enemy_ ,” Reinhardt interjected. “You cannot allow yourself to-.”

“I will allow what I like, dear,” she said calmly. “These… enemies. They are fighting for their own cause, same as we did. They had families, friends. People who had to grieve when instead of their loved one coming home, a body in a box or just two scraps of metal were all that made it back. All I could think about was if someone brought Fareeha back to me like that--” She closed her eye to stop the train of thought, taking a deep breath before she spoke again, “I decided to start over as best I could. I found Migizi, but… after a _long_ argument, he did not wish to come with me. He wanted to be around for Fareeha, in case she needed anything. He agreed to keep my secret, though. And then…” And then the Swiss Headquarters went up in flames. He remembered seeing her husband’s name in the list of those lost in the explosion. “ Falyarqud bisalam.” 1

He stood from the seat, going over to her and taking one of her hands. “I am sorry for your loss, Ana,” Reinhardt murmured gently. “I wanted to tell you that... when I heard the news.” He had told her grave, in all honesty. Hers sat empty like Jack’s, like Gabriel’s. 

“It’s… okay. It was many years ago.” When the kettle clicked off, finished, she poured the boiling water over the tea bags, watching the water darken as it steeped. “Migizi gave me wonderful years and an even more wonderful daughter. That was more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Reinhardt nodded slowly before another question came to mind. “Have you spoken with Fareeha lately?”

Ana didn't answer for a beat. “I… sent her a letter.”

“A letter?” 

“I am not Captain Amari anymore, or even Horus. I am not who she remembers me. Perhaps it is best it stays that way. This way, she can imagine how I might say the words I wrote.”

“Ana, you _must_ know she will find out about Winston’s message. Overwatch was all she _ever_ dreamed of! She will be coming to join soon enough.”

“And I hope the letter changes that,” Ana breathed. “I do not want this life for her, Reinhardt. A security officer is bad enough but… fugitive of the Petras Act and _vigilante_...” She shook her head. “I do _not_ want that for her.”

“Then you must not realize how much like her mother she truly is,” he murmured. Ana took a deep breath. “Oh, no, it isn't a bad thing, Ana. I promise. You and Migizi gave her all the tools she needed. She cares about all the right things. Peace, justice-”

“I suppose I had hoped Angela would rub off more on her.” Angela with her The-Things-I-Make-Should-Not-Be-Used-To-Harm attitude. Ana reflected on the rifle she now carried. That was Angela’s design… with Ana’s modifications. The modifications to harm. It seemed like everywhere she went, even if she helped, she had to do _some_ harm. Then again, if her nanoshots did not harm, Jack might have died at Gabriel’s hands. A small shiver ran through her as she remembered Gabe’s new face. He had truly become a monster. 

“She’s with Angela?” Reinhardt’s question pulled Ana back to the present. 

“For a while now, yes. Long-distance, mostly. Angela is travelling, helping the sick and injured of those affected by war, but Fareeha has mostly kept to Giza.” She kept track of the two best she could. 

“Oh! _With_ Angela. I did not realize.” He cleared his throat, not really wanting to reflect on the dating habits of his god-daughter. 

Ana chuckled. “What did you expect? They were both teenagers when Angela came onboard at Switzerland.” 

A tinge of pink appeared on the old man’s cheeks as he looked down at his hands clasped in front of him. “So… what made you decide to come back?” he asked, changing the topic. He _really_ didn’t want to think about Angela and Fareeha as teenagers. He would have said anything to get off of the topic.

“Well, much like yourself, I’ve already been ‘back’ in the sense of fighting for what is right.” At his surprised look, she grinned and chuckled. “Oh, yes. Do not think those reports of a metal, giant man swinging through bandits have gone unnoticed, Reinhardt. I’m sure you saw the news holos about a Shrike?” She knew he was the type to keep up with the holos. Whenever he was off mission, his holo was running the reports constantly.

“That was you? Ana, the things Shrike did were-”

“Dangerous, yes. I know.” She hesitated a moment, using the excuse of handing his readied tea to him to think about whether she wanted to mention… “I said that you would need to get used to seeing old, ‘dead’ friends. In my last run, I was helping Jack. Actually, I _have been_ helping Jack for some time.”

Another slam to the chest. “How-”

She seemed to be expecting every statement he made. Maybe she had prepared for these questions beforehand. It seemed like the type of thing she might do. And being the type of woman to never waste time, she didn’t let him get the question out before she started answering. “I don’t know. He doesn’t either. His memory fails him a lot of the time. Some days, all he can remember is that he was the 76th subject of the Super Soldier program in the U. S.” She took the tea bag out of one mug and threw it away. “How many sugars?” she asked as if she _hadn’t_ just told him another friend was secretly alive.

“Er, two, _bitte_.” 2 He let out a quick, heavy breath, trying once more to process the new information. On a typical day, his hallucinations didn’t bother him much, and usually they were visual, not auditory. They typically came around in times of stress, and this was definitely a time of stress. Was what he was hearing real? Was she actually saying that his Commander, Jack Morrison, was alive, too? Or, even, was _she_ real? It was unlikely, but very possible, that his imagination would take it this far, giving him physical sensation along with the visual. 

Ana then placed the mug of tea in his hands. The warm ceramic mixed with the smell of tea and a hint of spearmint seemed to bring him back.

“Happens to me, too,” Ana assured him. Had she seen the distress on his face as he questioned his reality? “Not to your extent, but…” She shrugged as her voice trailed off. “Come, sit back down.”

“I… don’t think I have any more questions right now,” he murmured, moving back to the counter stools with her. 

“That’s alright,” she answered gently. “Absolutely nothing wrong with just sitting and enjoying tea with an old friend.” There was that familiar, warm smile of hers. And Reinhardt returned it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: May he rest in peace.   
>  2: please
> 
> You can follow me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/LMichaela_AO3) or [Tumblr](http://www.lmichaela-ao3.tumblr.com) for news regarding my fic.


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